The Queen's Man
by Simetra23
Summary: THe story of Esther as told by a high servant of the palace.


A few men, lounging on plush pillows laughed raucously over some jest at a chess-player's move. Many stood at the table, conversing lightly as they ate and drank beyond their fill. The King, surrounded by obsequious counselors and eager nobles, proclaimed loudly for more drink to be served, though his own glass, which he used to make grandiose gestures, sloshed dangerously onto the pillows beneath him.

It was the seventh night of such merriment. I followed the King's orders, although the sloshing goblet did not escape my eyes. We servants did not question our King. The King dealt with enough questioning from his treacherous nobles. He paid us well, we did our jobs. Such is the life of a servant. It is a worthy lot, should you find yourself in it. One of the more satisfying occupations. Following orders, you don't have to think. And no one asks the advice of a servant. I don't envy those councilors, I can tell you that. Everything they say is weighed and measured, and they can't simply keep quiet, they're expected to speak. It's no wonder politics is so full of intrigue. I'd watch my back too, if people expected my every word to be right, and for me to have a word on everything. No, a servant's life is grand. No one expects you to say anything, and nothing do you say. One gets on well enough.

And so, as was the custom, I did not question the King, but followed his wishes. We replaced the half-drunk goblet, and refilled those of his officious listeners. He continued his raucous tales to the other nobles without even noticing as the goblet left and reentered his hand. It was a tale of his wife, the queen, as were most of the tales he told. The queen's fairness outshone all the women in the land, or so it was told. Indeed, her dark, thick hair looked well pulled up in a queenly array, her green eyes pierced quickly through your outer defenses, her strong chin contrasted her soft complexion with an intriguing uniqueness, and her thin frame was regal. She was a Queen, and no one could mistake her for anything else. This, of course, was the description included in the King's tale, embellished by pride, and drink, and amiability toward the woman. It could not be said that he did not love her, in his own way. She was his proud wife, his possession, but she was his treasure, too. He loved her, I think, as much as a King can allow himself to love. Which is perhaps little. Kingship is an occupation I envy even less than councillorship.

The goblets continued to be emptied and filled, and the stories pressed forward, the only change as the night drew forth being that the laughter grew a little louder and a little more ridiculous, and the dancers began to show signs of wear. It was at the height of this that we servants knew the festivities would quickly wind down. The noblemen would weary of the dancers, the chess board would become abandoned, and it would be only a matter of time before the King tired of his storytelling and ordered the others to bed. Events were nearing that height, when the King, his voice having grown very loud, his laughter ridiculously boisterous, called myself and six other of his high servants over.

"Bring her in!" He shouted, waving his hand aimlessly. We waited. It was not our custom to question him further, but of course we did not know what he meant by her.

"Are you daft, fellows? We said bring her in! Now, we say!" Still waiting. This is the difficulty of a servant's life. To go, without knowledge of the order given? Or to invite reprimand by waiting for further instructions?

One of the less sober nobles roared. "Your wife may be beautiful, sire, but your servants are witless."  
Another slapped his knee. "I do confess a desire to see this legend. She cannot be nearly as lovely as is told, or she would blind us all with her dazzling eyes. Nor do I believe her as regal as all say, for surely one so beautiful is either too submissive, or an untamed wildcat. No queen can be all these things."  
The wine in the King's glass dripped red down the back of his hand as he swung his great girth back in an animated chuckle. "She is all of these and more! Submissive as a lamb, regal as the sun, lovely as a flower in drought." He turned back to us. "Bring her to us. And tell her to wear her crown, so that we may see her in her truest beauty." I bowed out of the room, the other servants following my lead, and we left the King to fetch his resplendent bride.


End file.
